Ghosts
by DarkQueenOfTheWhump
Summary: Daniel is captured on an alien planet and his fate rests in the hands of SG-1. (Please R/R, and no flames!) *~Now Finished!~*
1. Default Chapter

A low fog had laced its way between the trees. Silence was upon the woods, and not a movement was to be seen. Thunder rolled threateningly, warning of rain. A small rabbit-like creature twitched its ear, covered in its veil of fog, and slipped into a den under the roots of a grey-trunked tree. Another roll of thunder, lazy and grumbling, like an old man complaining tiredly.

Suddenly the fog was broken by a young man running at as fast of a speed as he could get. The limp was noticeable, and each of his breaths were ragged, pained. His leg muscles were screaming at him, begging in agony for a break--just a second's time to rest. His ankle especially. He had most definitely at least sprained the thing, and now he almost collapsed with every step. His face was red, and sweat mixed with blood to stain it. His clothing was torn, especially at the right shoulder, where a bloody wound spoke of weapon-fire. That was the most painful thing. He didn't stop to look at it. He could feel the blood running down his arm and chest, warm and sticky. 

Shouts came behind him, faint, but growing closer. They were hunting him, without a doubt. The voices were as angry as the thunder that grew louder with each rolling boom. He gasped for breath, almost giving in and falling to the ground. But, no, he couldn't do that. If he just stayed alive for a little while longer, yes, if he could stay alive for a little longer they would save him. But how could he possibly stay alive any longer? The voices grew nearer, and he heard the change in the tone, though he did not understand the language. Subconsciously he was picking out words, though. 'Enemy' and 'kill' were the most frequent, and also the ones he would have least liked to hear. 

__

Just a bit further, he urged himself, but he could not fool himself. _Further to where? What then?_ He didn't get a chance to find out. A gnarled tree root that rose in a low arch from the ground, now hidden below the fog, got in his way. His foot caught between the root and the mossy ground, and he fell, sprawling on his stomach across roots and grass. Their footsteps rang pounded in his ears; the sounds of their voices growing more urgent rang out like an air raid siren--loud, screaming 'danger' in his head. But he couldn't move. It hurt too much. 

A leather-clad foot fell inches away from his face. They hovered over him, speaking more in a different tone now. Argument? He couldn't tell--his subconscious translator seemed to have given up, and as they spoke in the native tongue, he allowed the world to fade into black.

*****

Jack had been staring at him in the Gateroom. It wasn't a mean stare, or a commanding stare--but a worried one. _But_, he thought dully, _isn't that just as bad?_ He had approached Daniel with the hesitancy that seemed to come along with every word spoken to the archaeologist lately. "Look, Daniel, if you're not up to going on this mission…"

"I'm fine, Jack." He'd offered a slight, unreal smile. "If I don't go back to working, I'll never get back into the swing of it. Don't really want me moping around the SGC forever, do you?" A hollow chuckle--one that he didn't even know where he'd gotten the strength to bring up. He'd tried to believe his words. In fact, he had believed that if he didn't get out and do something soon, he would fall into a depression forever. Hand-device or no, message or no, his one and only, the love of his life, was dead. But what he had needed and what he had honestly wanted were two different things. What he had truly wanted was to curl up in a little ball in the corner of his bedroom and make the world leave him alone. 

"You do that when we run out of coffee, anyway." Jack had given him that half-smile--the one that said that things would be okay, and not to worry. He had touched Daniel on the shoulder gently, his deep brown eyes searching the dull blue ones for…what had he been searching for? What was everyone searching for? A sign that he would be okay? Daniel had turned away from the gaze and looked up at the Stargate. Maybe this mission was what he needed--an escape from the sad looks, the futile attempts to comfort. He had slipped away from Jack's hand and had trudged up the ramp, staring at the deep blue pool without the usual spark in his eyes. 

As he had reached the event-horizon, he had squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds. His heart had been pounding with its usual excitement and eagerness. Why did he have to stop and tell himself that he wouldn't find her on the other side of the wormhole? Shouldn't it have been common knowledge to every part of him now? He had been perfectly aware of the eyes locked on his back. Sam, Jack, Teal'C--hell, half of the guards who had had duty that day were giving him that look. They had wanted to say something to help, but none could find any words worth saying. He had plunged into the deep blue, leaving the heavy silence behind.

It was supposed to have been a routine archaeological mission. No signs of life forms had been found--only the old, abandoned temples within a few miles of the Stargate. Simple work. No hostility, no threat of being bothered. Just a way to escape from the world and do his translations. The MALP had shown that the Stargate had been built upon a hill so steep it was almost ridicules. Of course, the Goa'uld didn't seem to have been in the culture for a long time--most likely not since they had brought the original inhabitants. The Gate was set upon the hill to be worshiped and revered. Even feared. Daniel had tried to explain this when the mission had first began a about a month ago--but no one had listened. Now time had passed and they had worked on the site thoroughly. A new chamber filled with symbols and glyphs had been found, and Daniel had taken the opportunity to escape the looks. It was supposed to be a simple, routine mission.

That was not what it turned out to be. The moment he had stepped out of the Gate, Daniel had known something was wrong. He had opened his eyes to the shocking sight of a small troop of natives--_There are no natives!_--firing what looked like staff-weapons (only less advanced) at the archaeological team. Daniel's first reaction had been to reach, not for his gun, but for his radio. They had needed help. They had been easily outnumbered, even by the small band of warriors. Unfortunately, the Gate had closed. His hand had moved to his gun and drawn it quickly. Before him, Dr. Russell Abraham had been hit while firing with precision. The armor of the natives had easily protected them against the Earth-weapons. Around him, people he had known for a long time dropped like flies. Before he had time to fire his first bullet, a blue-green energy had been blasted from the end of a weapon and had hit his right shoulder. His firearm had fallen to the ground, and he had fallen back, tripping over the bottom curve of the Gate. He had flipped backwards and reached the edge of the hill. He had tumbled down, unable to stop himself, covering his head protectively with his good arm. It had seemed an eternity before he had reached the bottom. But the weapon fire continued. _Not many left--can't be. Run._ His thoughts did not seem to connect well, but they had made sense. His feet obeyed before he thought, and he had raced into the nearby forest in a numb, painful haze.

*****

"Sir?" Jack looked up from the laptop on his desk. Technically, he was supposed to be typing up his report from P3X-264. On the screen, he had done some impressive work. He had managed to get all of the aces out of the deck, and was almost halfway through each suit. But he was barely even concentrating on his game of Solitaire as he sat alone in his quiet office. The lost look that Daniel had been wearing the past two weeks wore on his mind. _Two weeks--that's too damn early to send him back out there. How the hell did he manage to sweet talk Hammond into it? Simple mission or not, he_-- "Sir?" Sam stepped into the room, her face confused at his distant look. 

"Hey, Carter. I was just…thinking." He closed the laptop quickly to hide his procrastination and stood up. "So, what brings you to this neck of the SGC?"

"Well, Sir, I've been meaning to get some work done on…" She sighed under his scrutinizing gaze. "Actually, it's Daniel." Jack nodded for her to go on. "I'm not wanting to second-guess the General, but two weeks seem a little bit early. I asked Janet about I, but she said it was Dr. McKenzie's department."

He frowned in disgust at the name of McKenzie. "That explains it. McKenzie doesn't know his ass from his elbow." Sam stared at him, wondering how he was going to work this saying into the current situation, but the phone on Jack's desk rang. He picked it up, sitting on the desktop as he did. "O'Neill. They haven't… Wait, how long ago? Damnit." He dropped the receiver back onto the cradle.

He walked quickly past her, gesturing for her to follow. "Colonel?" she asked as she struggled to keep up with his long-striding, quick gait. When he finally stopped, she asked again. "Sir?"

He pushed the button next to the elevator doors and turned towards her. "SG-12 was supposed to send a message through the Gate well over an hour ago. There's been no word from them. Period." He sighed as the doors opened and followed her in. "Simple mission my ass--if there's so much as a single drop of blood in that probe's visual, I'm going in with a whole army behind me." 

*****

It was a hell of a lot more than a drop of blood. It was a massacre. Sam's blue eyes widened in horror as she stared at the monitor in front of her. A hand raised and pressed against her mouth, and she fought to keep composure. She wasn't sure if she would scream, cry, or throw up if she lost control. Most likely all three. In no particular order. Behind her, she felt everyone tense up. She didn't have to see it to know. The whole atmosphere of the room changed suddenly. No one spoke for a moment.

"Major," Hammond said, regaining his role of authority, "can you count the dead from the probe's feedback?"

_God, Sir, don't make me zoom in on these poor dead people. _"I can try, Sir," she said softly. She closed her eyes, but she could see the picture. It was imprinted in her mind. The sky, rolling with thick black clouds, overshadowing distant mountains. The small, grassy plateau scattered with bodies, still and bloody. Rain fell in sheets around them, over them, mixing the blood and dirt into a gruesome puddle of gore. She reopened her eyes and began pushing keys. Zooming in, but not wanting to. With every millisecond that passed, she would pray, over and over, until it became a chant, _God, don't let any of these be Daniel._ Body after body, face after face. People she saw everyday. Lying there in the mud and blood, their eyes glazed in death. "Sir, I can't go any further with the probe without--without hitting anyone. The zoom won't do much good in this weather, either."

"General, permission to go through the Gate and bring back the bodies?" Jack's voice was flat and showed no emotion whatsoever. It was almost robotic. The room got stiller and stiffer yet. Silence as Hammond contemplated Jack's request.

"Major, is there any sign of an ambush waiting on the other side?" 

"No, Sir. The hill is too steep for anyone too hide on its slopes, and the MALP isn't picking up any movement at all." 

"Colonel, you will take the remainder of your team through the Stargate with SG-5. Retrieve the bodies. If anyone is missing, find them. Keep in contact, every two hours, or we will presume you dead as well, do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir. We'll be ready to go in ten minutes."

"Ten minutes, Colonel?"

"We've got to tell SG-5. That should take about five minutes, Sir."

Hammond nodded and looked at the monitor. He reached over and turned it off, breaking Sam's almost hypnotic gaze at the morbid image. "Jack…I hope you find him alive."

"He's alive, Sir. Trust me, I know. He's still alive. We'll find him." He disappeared out the door, followed closely by Teal'C and Sam. 

Hammond sat down in the chair and turned on the monitor again, staring at the scene before him. He closed his eyes and shook his head. _Colonel, I hope you're right._

*****

He couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure he could. The weight of his eyelids seemed too overpowering. The creak of chains, the rattle of metal doors, soft sobbing echoed to him. It was cold and dank, and he lie on an icy stone floor. _Dungeon. Again._ His jumbled mind found that funny, and he bit back and a chuckle. _What number am I at now? 20, at least. Is that a record?_ He finally pulled his eyes open, but didn't move anything else. He was staring at the bottom of a row of steel bars. The floor beneath him was rough grey stone, jagged and uncomfortable. The lighting was incredibly dim, only a few torches hung from the occasional spot on the walls both inside his 'cell' and out. However, it seemed overly-bright to him, and he winced, squinting. Slowly, his eyes adjusted and he rolled over onto his back. The walls were very much like the floor--three of them made of rough stone, carelessly carved. The ceiling was dark and far above his head. A torch flickered on each wall, casting faint light in the empty room.

He found the strength to sit up, and slumped back, sitting with his back in the corner. His jacket was gone now, as well as his boots and socks. The wound on his shoulder had been bound tightly, but not very well. Blood was still damp and warm on the white cloth. His ankle was as crudely wrapped, but more tightly. Quietly, he sat there in the dark corner, watching the gate/door of the cell with distant eyes. He shivered in the coldness, and wished for his jacket. _If this was a movie, the guard would come to interrogate me right as I woke up. Freakishly right at the right moment. Wish this was a movie. If it was a movie, I'd be rescued._ He shook his head to clear away the bad thoughts, then regretted it as the room did a flip-flop and he nearly threw up. _Bad thing to do, Daniel. Just…stay still. They'll save you. They always do._ He tried to keep himself from wondering how much luck a single person can have by counting silently in as many languages as he could manage, switching randomly, trying to keep a pattern, trying to stay awake. 

In fact, being as it wasn't a movie, Daniel was sitting awake for almost an hour before anybody came. By that time, his chin was resting against his chest, and he was trying to figure out which language's counting system was most like the Goa'uld's. Keys jingled and the door was opened with a creak. Leather boots stepped over to him and stood in front of him until he finally noticed.

Slowly, Daniel lifted his head. He was dizzy and half-conscious. He stared with wide blue eyes up at the guard, looking, in his injured and vulnerable state much like a scared child. It took him a moment to realize that the guard was waiting for him to speak first. "We're not you're enemies…" he said softly.

The guard snorted and reached down. He pulled Daniel to his feet roughly. Daniel stumbled and pressed flat against the wall in order to gain his balance. The guard snapped in his native language and waited for a reply. The linguist stared at him, his injured brain not functioning well enough to even work on connecting the language to others he knew and getting a base for the new language started. Instead, the man who knew 26 other languages just as well as he knew English, managed to come up with the brilliant question of, "…huh?" 

The guard growled something that sounded a lot like an insult and pulled Daniel forward, then pushed him from behind out the door. Daniel wondered how long he was going to be able to stay on his feet without passing out or throwing up (who knew a hallway could spin like one of those gravity-defying rides at the carnivals?). The guard, however, had other things on his mind, and pushed the archaeologist forward, clearly indicating that he was supposed to walk. And so he did, silently praying for Jack to come and save him from what was bound to wind up as yet another gruesome torture session for the record books of Daniel Jackson.


	2. Chapter 2

Rain was pounding the material of the rain slicker he was wearing. Above him, on the plateau, they were wrapping the bodies up, making a list of who was there, sending them back through the Gate. _Another cheery, fun-filled day in the life of Jack O'Neill_. The raingear was doing no good. His face was streaming with water blown in by a god-awful wind, and it was dripping down the back. Mud sloshed into his boots, making every step he took squash weirdly. But he didn't notice.

_God, Danny, don't let the next name they tell me be yours. Be alive, be safe--hell, you don't even have to be safe. Just be alive._ The radio crackled out another name. Someone he was going to play poker with that Saturday. Damn. He kicked at a large rock in frustration. An hour. He'd been looking around the base of this damn hill an hour, and hadn't found anything. Carter was on one side, Teal'C on another, and he was over here. They'd started looking along the slopes, and now were working their way out. But in the rain, there wasn't a chance in hell they'd be able to find anything. He kicked the rock again.

Realization dawned on him. It wasn't a rock. He knelt in the thick mud, and picked it up. SGC-issued backpack. His hands trembled. _Daniel, God knows you've probably used up your nine lives by now, but tell me you've managed to find another one somewhere in you…_ He reached in and pulled out the first object his hands closed on. A travel-pack of tissues. He almost laughed when he saw them, and lifted his radio. "Carter, Teal'C, I found something…"

*****

_Ah, the good old feel of shackles on my wrists. Haven't had this done in, what's it been, a week? God, my brain is starting to sound like Jack…_ Daniel didn't move. He didn't feel like doing it. He didn't remember getting his arms chained above his head. Hell, all he remembered was walking down the hallway--possibly. That had happened, hadn't it? Did it matter?

_First things first, Daniel…Can you even pick up your head?_ He forced himself to do so, but at the same time being unhappy about having to do it. _Okay, good. Got that done. Not that it's helping any, but…_ The room was carved out of stone, but it was larger than the cell he'd been in. He was chained to a wall (_Oh, *that's* a new one_), and before him was a stone table, only a few feet away. _A lovely stone table full of interesting prizes. Tell him what he's won, Johnny! _ He tried to keep himself from wondering when his mind had taken on the voice of Jack O'Neill, and stared at the instruments. _Okay, those are definitely torture instruments. Painful, painful torture…things._

Footsteps. They were coming nearer. He then noticed that there was a doorway in the wall--open, and it seemed as though there was nothing to close it. The footsteps were echoing through the cavernous stone hallways. He tried his best to blend in with the wall; to disappear into the shadows of the torch-lit room. Deciding after a few seconds that it just wasn't going to happen, he dropped his head again, and tried his best to look unconscious.

They came into the room in silence. All but one person stopped, and their footsteps--lighter than the others', but quicker--approached him. They stopped in front of him, between him and the table. A hand reached forward, cupping his chin with warm fingers, lifting his face upwards. He couldn't manage to keep his eyes shut forever, and now he opened them, and stared at his enemy.

She was gorgeous. Dark hair drawn back away from fair white skin. She was clad in white, flowing robes, and was graceful in her poise and movements. But he edged away from her hand. It was her eyes that caught him. Deep, dark, disturbingly cold and emotionless. Beauty spoiled by--by what? Hatred? Power? Evilness? He looked away from those eyes--fearing being caught in them like a fly in a spider's web. Behind her, flanking either side of the doorway, were two guards. Large, muscular, and holding tightly to weapons very much like those he had seen on the hill.

_Uh-oh…she just…asked me something._ He looked back at her. She stared at him expectantly, looking quite ready to sic her guards on him at the drop of a hat. And not only did he not know what she had asked him, but he didn't even know what language she had asked it in. He'd been too busy zoned out and staring at the weapons. Marvelous. _Start with the basics._ "I'm Daniel Jackson. Daniel." _This would be *so* much easier if I could point to myself…or would it? Does it matter if I point to myself if she has no idea what I'm saying anyway?_ He snapped himself back to the moment when she demanded something of him in her native tongue. One which he couldn't figure out at the spur of the moment. Maybe if he were in top condition, sure. But considering he'd just been attacked, had fallen down a hill, been chased through a forest, captured, and chained to a wall, with plenty of injuries to show for all of it, he couldn't manage to find even a good source for the beginning of his translations.

_War. Okay, she just said--oh, damn. She thinks I'm starting war._ "No--no war. *No* *war*." _Oh, good, Daniel. Overpronunciate everything. Now I'm sure she knows exactly what you're saying._ "No…_esewl_…?" He cringed, awaiting her reaction. 

She stared at him in cold silence for a moment, her head raised, eyes locked on his, emotionless pools of dark. He let go of a breath he'd been holding. _Okay, so maybe that *was* the right w--_Her hand caught around his throat, fingernails digging into his skin, cutting off his airway. He struggled, trying to find a way--any way--out of the situation. But his mind froze and his blood ran cold when his gaze caught hers once again.

Her eyes glowed.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack and Sam trailed after Teal'C, feeling completely useless in the search for their lost team member. Teal'C, despite the pounding rain, was able to pick up a trail in only a few minutes. No one had tried to cover their tracks. Daniel had ran off into the forest, limping but with a good pace, and was followed by at least three men.

The three remaining members of SG-1 had entered the forest after Jack had radioed the other SGC member atop the hill. After sending the bodies through, he told them to post a watch at the 'gate. Just in case something happened. Under the canopy of leaves, the rain was lesser, but it was still wet and dreary. They were forced to use flashlights, despite the attention it would call to them if enemies were near.

Teal'C walked with his head lowered, eyes searching the ground, the leaves, the trees for any sign of…anything. Sam kept her flashlight beam near the ground, looking herself, though her own skills were rather bad in comparison to the Jaffa's. She felt that she had to do something. It wasn't helping very much--at all, really--but she felt less useless. Jack, however, just held his flashlight without thinking about where the beam went. His mind raced with a million different scenarios. None of them ended well for Daniel.

Suddenly Teal'C stooped in a fluid motion--from walking to crouching. Sam stopped short, but Jack nearly tripped over him. He was stopped by Sam, and stared down at where Teal'C was looking. A pair of broken glasses lie in the mud between the roots. He reached down, over Teal'C's shoulder, and picked them up. The left lens was cracked in a spider web like fashion. The right one was completely shattered. Mixed among the mud was the distinct color of blood. 

Teal'C stood and scanned the ground. "It appears that DanielJackson fell here. The men caught up and one carried him." He said this without looking up, and turned off of the path they had been following, to the right, and started down the new trail. Sam followed, silent, brow wrinkled in silent fear and worry. Jack looked down at the glasses in his hand, clenched his hand, and dropped them in the mud. He trudged after Sam, hand coming to rest on the butt of his gun.

*****

He sat numbly in his cell, staring at the bars, thinking over his situation. He hurt like hell--was it actually his fault?--and didn't have any medical equipment, not even a first aid kit. No one knew where he was--surely they'd have sent a probe through the 'gate by now--it had certainly been long enough--but no one knew what had happened other than that they were ambushed. They'd never find him. He didn't even know himself where he was, and the planet was mainly just wilderness. As much as he would like to hope that they'd be able to track him, his hope was not much, and he wondered if he should begin to accept that he'd never get home to save trouble later. When they went to kill him.

Who exactly were 'they' anyway? As far as the probes and UAVs had shown, the planet was uninhabited. So why was he sitting in the corner of a cell, hand pressed against the covering on a shoulder wound made by a weapon? Having had his arms chained above his head did nothing for him--the pull had actually made him start to bleed again, and now he pressed his hand on it to keep the blood to a minimum.

When he had regained consciousness, Daniel had been faced again with the Goa'uld woman. She had spoken again in a tongue he couldn't understand. In fact, he couldn't even understand why she didn't speak in the Goa'uld tongue. Too many questions in his own mind, and too many questions he didn't understand. She had finally given up, stared at him, contemplating him, and drawn a syringe out of the folds of her cloak. 

He'd been injected with a dark-colored liquid in a vein on his neck. It wasn't so much the fact that she was injecting him with something, but the thought of what she could be injecting him with that had caused him to panic. He had kicked out, shoving her back. The empty syringe had fallen and shattered, and the guards had advanced. They hadn't used the torture instruments--he had a feeling that they'd use those later. Instead, their fists had done a bang-up job--no pun intended. His left eye was bruised, blackened, and practically swollen shut. His jaw was turning a lovely shade of purple, and his nose had just stopped bleeding.

But what had really hurt most was the attack at his chest and stomach. Every time he moved, there was that shifting feeling--the rub of bone against bone? There was really no doubt in his mind that they'd broken at least one of his ribs. Others were surely cracked. His chest was darker than his facial bruises. He thanked God that he'd been chained with his back to the wall. Lord only knew what they would have done to his lower back--beat his kidneys into a pulp.

But now, a slow trickle of blood still working its way down his forehead from where a guard with a ring had sliced the skin at his hairline, he took to trying to figure out what it was that she had put into his blood. Most likely not poison--he didn't feel anything other than pain from the beating. No sickness. And he wasn't dead. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not in this particular situation. Truth serum of some kind? Like the blood of Sokar? Than why hadn't she tried to question him after injecting him, instead of letting the guards use him as a punching bag and drag him back to his plain, cold cell?

Eventually, thoughts still buzzing through his mind, he managed to doze off. His left hand still pressed against the blood-stained bandaging on his shoulder, chin to his chest. No one came to bother him, to wake him, to question him. He was alone for a good many hours, allowed to sleep his restless but dreamless sleep.

*****

Nothing. Hours on end and still nothing. What had been uncomfortably squishy boots had become mud-filled lakes of rainwater. No one spoke as the thunder rolled overhead. The rain had grown even harder, and it was worse beneath the cover of leaves than before. Teal'C, who had been so sure of where he was going before, began to seem unsure, and stopped often to check his surroundings. Carter was staring at the flashlight beam with no real hope left in her eyes. Jack maintained his silent, brooding demeanor. But inside, he silently prayed to all that was good and perfect in the world for Daniel to be alive. The way that the archaeologists had been massacred on the hilltop left no doubt in his mind that these people would kill Daniel if he didn't talk. And Daniel wouldn't talk. That was certain. Despite his civilian title, Daniel wouldn't give in. It would be the end of him, this secret of the SGC.

They reached a clearing where rain came down in painful sheets, practically cutting off all visionary. But even through the rain, they could see the temples. Three large, overwhelmingly huge temples. The tops were brushed with the leaves of the swaying trees, and hundreds of steps lead to the pillared tops. Doorways and walkways surrounded the outsides, almost in the way that the Anasazi's caves in the hillsides looked, without ladders. 

Teal'C stopped here. Rainwater had flooded the wide opening. He turned to Jack, and the Colonel's heart chilled. "There is no more trail. The rain has washed away what was left of the markings. There are no more footprints--they would be impossible to find in this water. I am sorry." He lowered his head, truly meaning what he said.

"Then we'll look in the temples. We can't stop here. If the tracks lead here, then they probably were leading to the temples. We'll start with the one on the right." He left no room for argument, striding through the ankle-high water toward the designated building. No one hesitated. They followed, hands on their weapons, ready for any ambush.

Jack randomly chose a doorway on the lowest level and stepped in, flashlight on. It was dusty inside, but there was archaeological equipment every here and there. This was where the mission had been going and had not gotten. He moved deeper into the room, following passageways in the dark, followed by his team members, silently promising to Daniel that he would find him.

*****

Daniel woke suddenly, sensing someone else in the room with him. He raised his head up slowly, his hand coming up to brush blood away from his left eye. It was now trickling down in a steady stream due to the angle he had held his head at. His dark blue eyes locked on something unseen, and he gasped, left hand clutching at the shooting pain in his ribs as he did so. He cowered back into the darkness of the corner, refusing to believe, but unwilling to tear away his gaze.

His parents stood before him. They were bloody, broken, disfigured, crushed. Blank white eyes staring at nowhere, but also at him. Especially at him. His father opened his mouth. Blood ran down his chin as he tried to speak. Nothing came out but a cracked whispering noise--indistinguishable. He lifted a hand and staggered forward a step.

"NOOO!" Daniel screamed, finally slamming his good hand over his eyes. He could still hear the soft shuffle of feet approaching. "No…" he whispered, shaking, curling himself up tightly in the corner. "You aren't real. You aren't real." An eerily calm voice in the back of his head asked if he should have stayed in that padded room; asked if he wasn't really nuts. No thought bothered to mention that the Goa'uld woman had injected him with something unknown--something that could easily cause hallucinations. The thoughts just asked if he were nuts, insisted that this wasn't real, screamed at the horror. "You aren't real! You can't be--" A hand fell on his shoulder and he let out a choked cry, dark eyes raising to meet the white blankness where he father's kind, sweet eyes used to be. The man who would let him help explore in great temples, dig at sites, read him stories at his bedtime. The hand tightened on his injured shoulder and he cried out. There was a dry cracking noise as the hand tightened. Pale lips moved to say words that didn't come, and more blood trickled out.

__

Daniel sobbed, shaking, unable to move anywhere. Unable to escape. His mother stepped forward and he couldn't bare to look anymore. He couldn't scream anymore, couldn't protest the reality. He could feel the hand on his shoulder, pressing against his wound, or the creaking of dead bones. His father shifted, and he could feel dry, dead, decaying skin brush against his own. The stench of death filled his nostrils and he choked, pushing back nausea. Cold lips touched his ear as his father's voice--the voice that had read him those stories, had explained about the origins of the temples, had taught him how to use the equipment in the dirt of the dig--whispered haunting words in his ears.

_It won't be long, Danny. It won't be long until you come…before you join us._


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note:  I have returned, written, criticized, rewritten, and here is a much better chapter 4.  Or, as Becky, my darling Creative Consultant wants, longer.  ;)  I only ask one thing of those of you who are still hanging around, waiting for this damned story to be finished—review.  But don't ask me to write more.  I'm going to write more.  But if you tell me to do so, it makes me feel pressured and results in a yearlong writer's block.  Fair warning.

*          *          *          *          *          *

She moved silently down the hallway, robes flapping slightly with her movements.  She was alone, her guards left behind by strict orders.  She'd overthrown their government a few years ago, not without violence, and despite the respect she'd gained, they were still fearful and slightly distrustful.  She despised having to earn respect.  Had that incident with several of the System Lords not occurred, she simply could have revealed who she was and had them cowering at her feet.  The slip earlier could have ruined it all, but none saw but the boy, and that could work to her advantage.  He wasn't free to slink away and spread news that could reach the ears of the System Lords.  She could use what she was to gain advantage, but only he must be around to see it.

            She feared to be discovered and for word to get out, and her hiding to be in vain.  Yet she also feared there may already be a spy in her midst.  Could it be that this boy was sent by the System Lords in order to destroy her?  To kill her?  He, despite being severely wounded, still came towards the city in a determined manner.  Yet, after a search of the bodies, the boy, and everything they carried, all that was found were meager weapons that didn't even pierce the armor of her warriors.  The circumstances were much too confusing.  Why would they wait so long to attack?  For weeks, they'd come, watched by hidden spies, searching.  Looking.  For her?  At least, she set her soldiers upon them, perhaps for good, perhaps not.  Now, here was this man, and she planned to get answers from him.

            She unlocked the cell and entered, and stood over him.  He was half-dead, at least, unconscious in the corner.  Only at the last minute would the sarcophagus be used.  Until then, weakness from wounds, and confusion, perhaps fear, as well, judging from the screams heard throughout the stone corridors, throughout the underground city, induced by the hallucinogen, would serve to break him, and to gain information.

            "Wake," she napped.  Getting no response, she kicked him.  He groaned and opened his half-glazed eyes.  No fear, but confusion.  "What is your purpose here?"

            He furrowed his brow, and then a look of amazement and hopeful disbelieve filled his eyes.  "Sha're?"  Delusion.  She signed, and he continued.  "Am I dead?"  Realization, but not what she wanted, dawned on him.  More a sad disappointment.  "No.  No.  You are.  Like my parents."  He closed his eyes, shutting her out with desperation that seemed reluctant, as if part of him still wanted to see her.  "You're dead," he said, more convincing himself than talking to her.  "Dead.  Teal'C.  He…"

            She stared at him as he mumbled on, drifting slowly into unconsciousness again.  Teal'C.  She yelled for a guard then, in the planet's native tongue.  As footsteps approached, she glanced down again, and smiled.  Here was her key.  Her freedom to walk amongst the System Lords again without fear of death.

*          *          *          *          *          *

            It was so frustrating, and only because he knew now that there was no point any longer.  He paused for a second in the doorway of the room, and looked in over once more.  It was the uppermost level—a single large room filled with footprints left in the dust, and scattered notebooks of illegible handwriting.  Jack decided that all archaeologists must have this trait.  And he'd thought for so long that it was something only asked for on doctors' resumes.  Now was not, of course, the time to joke.  But it served pretty well as a defense mechanism, didn't it?  

            His group had been the slowest to search.  Maybe he had pushed them too hard.  Especially as they go higher up.  Now they were done, and no trace was to be found of Daniel.  He headed down, still glancing every now and then into empty, dark rooms, his flashlight beam glancing over words on the walls that he didn't understand, as if he was going to suddenly find Daniel sitting an waiting in a corner they'd checked again and again.  They'd looked everywhere.  Never mind that there was no trace in the lower rooms and no external way up to the higher levels.  Daniel could have sprouted wings and flown, right?

            Outside in the rain, SG-5 (with the exception of the two of its members sitting at the 'Gate to send messages back to the SGC) stood off at the third temple, huddled together.  Their talking stopped as he stepped outside, and they looked at him.  Like children talking and playing after the teacher had left the room, and pretending to be perfect angels when she walks back in.  Carter and Teal'C waited silently just outside of the doorway of the first temple for him.  Jack exited, pulling his hood up over his head.  What was left to do?  Hell, he'd single-handedly search the planet if he could, but between the weather and Hammond, he'd never get away with it or find Daniel.  All they could do was wait.  The weather was becoming increasingly worse, and Carter was uneasy about the prospect of a hurricane.  They'd have to wait and return when it was possible to find him outdoors.

            Or course, they'd all had the unspoken thought that he was taken through the Stargate.  Chances were, if he'd come here and was captured, and then taken to the 'Gate by another path, they'd never know, as the rain had now washed away all traces of everything.  And if he'd been taken offworld, that would be like trying to find a needle in a roomful of millions of haystacks.

            A movement caught his eye, then, and he drew his gun, moving forwards without a word.  Carter and Teal'C followed suite without question.  In the clearing in front of the temples were scattered boulders of several sizes.  A flatter, but wider one, was moving, sliding across the ground. They reached it as it stopped.  At their feet was a roughly circular hole, and up a ladder within came a shadow.  Jack yelled at it to stop, but the words were swept away by the wind.  Up it came, and in the glow of flashlights, a figure hooded and robed in black came up, and out, standing in the mud with a lowered face.  The others moved back a ways, still holding guns and flashlights steady upon it.  Jack snapped for identification, and the words reached the figure this time.

            Daniel lifted his face, squinting in the beams.  He stared at them, startled.  Black figures behind bright lights.  Uneasily, Jack stepped forward. He put his own weapon away, but gestured for the others to keep their own out and ready.

            "Daniel?" he asked, uncertain.  This wasn't right—it was too easy.  Just didn't sit right in his mind.  Daniel stared at him, opened his mouth to speak.  Then his eyes rolled back in his head, and Jack caught the unconscious man before he fell backwards into the yawning dark below.

TBC _(and soon, I promise)_


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note:  "I made a promise, Mr. Frodo…"_  _Wait…not that one.  Though, if I managed to get a Hobbit, I'd never loose him.  I'd stalk the hell out of him, being the pervy Hobbit fancier I am.  But I did promise that I'd give you more of the story, soon, and I delivered.  And, *gasp*, it's long and detailed and dramatic.  My, Laura's getting her groove back, I think.  She can only hope that Becky doesn't kill her for replacing the C-4 for another bit of plot.  *hides from the Creative Consultant of doom*_         

"They were frightened by us.  After we kept coming, they decided to attack.  It was all just defensive.  They…they must not have a great history with people coming through the Stargate.  I mean, most of these planets only remember the Goa'uld coming through it."  Daniel, having been released from Doc Fraiser's overnight observation, sat at the briefing table, giving the best explanation he could.  He'd been in virtually perfect health when they'd brought him back a little over twenty-four hours ago; the good doctor had only found faint traces of a hallucinogen and sedatives—the result of the latter obviously being his collapse at their meeting.  Now he fidgeted a bit, and Jack eyed him carefully.  Even in simple explanations of the most boring things, Daniel always seemed to have this passion about him, as if the entire world excited the hell out of him.  Hell, Jack remembered a time when there'd been passionate conversation about dust.  Of course, Daniel'd been drunk then, so…  Yet, now, he sat, talking in a blank manner, as if he didn't care what he was saying.  Janet sat at the table now, still hesitant about Daniel—obviously as trustful of the situation as Jack.  She was making notes on a piece of paper. "I was shot.  Wounded pretty bad.  And I ran.  They caught me, and interrogated me—about why we were there.  What we meant to do.  When they believed me, and realized what they'd done, they healed me and sent me on my way."  He looked down, then, silent, as if now that he'd spoken his piece, there'd be no more questions and he was done for the day.  Everyone was supposed to just go along with what he said and be happy with it.

            "Healed you?"  Sam asked, intrigued.  "What kind of technology did they have?"  She turned to General Hammond.  "If we could get them to—"

            "No!"  Everyone stared.  Daniel swallowed nervously.  "No…  I didn't see.  I was unconscious when they did it.  And they—they wouldn't share if we asked, anyway.  Don't want anything to do with us."  He shuffled the papers in front of him nervously.  Jack noticed Carter's sympathetic look, and, hell, he'd have matched it if he could bring himself to believe what she did.  Obviously, they all thought he was traumatized, scared to death of returning.  But still, something wasn't right.  It nagged at the back of Jack's mind, and Jack didn't just ignore his instinct.  You don't get to be a Colonel in the air force and lead the best team in a facility protecting the world from alien invasion if you ignore your instinct.  Daniel stood, "General, if I could—"

            "Where'd the hallucinogen come from," Jack asked, suddenly, giving Daniel a hard look.  "And the sedative?  You didn't mention those."  
            "I—I don't know.  I was out of it for a while.  I don't know why they'd…" He looked around desperately.  "The sedative—they gave it to me.  When they healed me.  I don't know why they…" He shot a desperate look at the general, and Hammond frowned, and then nodded slightly.

            "Dismissed, Dr. Jackson.  But don't leave the base.  We're going to have to set up an appointment with Dr. MacKenzie.  See if he can figure out what you can't."

*          *          *          *          *

            Three days later, and Jack hadn't spoken to Daniel at all.  He'd seen him in the hallways, but every time he moved to speak to the younger man, Daniel'd go in the opposite direction, or turn into a room.  Hell, sometimes he'd just let Jack talk, and completely ignore him.  Now, Jack stood in frustration outside of Daniel's office.  Daniel never, ever shut his office door.  And now it wasn't just shut—it was locked.  He simply wouldn't respond.  Not that it was of any consolation, but he seemed to be avoiding everyone in general.  Hiding away in his office when he wasn't having to talk to MacKenzie, who called what went on during the appointments 'confidential' and wouldn't tell Jack a damned thing.  Jack gave up trying to get Daniel to respond and started towards his office, then stopped and headed in another direction.

            "Hey, sir.  Just a minute…" Carter, finished jotting down something in her notebook—_and astrophysicists.  They get to have messy handwriting, too.  Unless that's just Carter._—and then looked back up.  "What's up?"

            "Carter, can you show me the video feed from the security cameras on your computer?"  She shot him a skeptical look, but then opened her laptop and began doing her wonderful Carter-hacking-magic.

            "What are we looking for, sir?"

            "Daniel's office."

            She gave him a confused look, then lowered her head and began working again.  "About Daniel, sir…"

            "I don't know why he's acting like that, Carter."

            "That's not it.  I was actually going to say…well, with all due respect, you're not treating him very well."  Jack stared at her, and she glanced up, catching the look.  "Well, look at what he's been through.  He's obviously traumatized, and, well, the way you acted in the briefing room, sir…you weren't exactly walking on eggshells."  She looked away again, pulling up the video feed.

            Jack looked it over while he responded to her.  "It's not right, Carter.  Trust me—if I thought things were right, I wouldn't be treating him the way I am.  But it's just—" He stopped and glanced at her.  "You sure this is Daniel's office?"

            "Yes, sir."  She gestured to the desk, covered with artifacts and unorganized papers, and the computer with the scrolling Egyptians on it.

            "It's empty.  His door's been locked all day.  Unless he locked himself out and hasn't bothered to get back in again…  Carter, check the feed.  Make sure it's…now."  She glanced at him.  "You know what I mean—you've seen movies where they fix the security cameras to play footage from the day before.  You can check for that, can't you?"  She nodded, and worked at it.  Jack walked around the lab, checking out samples of odd looking things under microscopes and flipping through sheets of numbers that he wouldn't understand in a million years.

            "Sir…" He walked back.  "You're right.  The feed's been overridden.  This isn't what's going on now.  Without asking, she began working on pulling up the current, actual feed, and then gaped.  "What is he—"  But the colonel was already gone.  She glanced back down at the screen and shook her head.  Certainly, that couldn't be what it looked like, could it?  Daniel calmly opened his cell phone, speaking quietly into the mouthpiece.  Only a few seconds later, alarms began to go off.  General Hammond came over the intercom throughout the base, and she heard his voice echoing through the halls and rooms outside of her lab.  The SGC was evacuating until the bomb-threat had been resolved.

*          *          *          *          *          *

            Jack pushed his way through the crowds of people moving through the hallway through towards the elevator.  He grabbed the explosives-expert outside of a doorway.  They were checking every room on the reported floor without a clue where to look.  The man pulled away, snapping at Jack.  "Damnit, listen to me.  The bomb is in Dr. Jackson's office.  If you don't get there now, the entire place could go up before you even get halfway there.  Now move it!"  The man stared for a second, and without question, shouted to the rest of his crew to get their asses down to Dr. Jackson's office.

            At the end of the hallway, Jack caught a glimpse of Daniel staring at him, before disappearing behind the door leading to the emergency stairwell.  He had the sinking suspicion that Daniel wasn't heading up for the surface, and followed.

*          *          *          *          *          *

            He was being followed.  Of course.  There was something deep inside of him that had made him hesitate.  Made him stop and look at Jack.  Something in him wanted to stop this.  Not that that little voice begging for it would ever win.  Hell no.  He had a mission, and nothing would get in the way of it.

            The gateroom was empty by now; he relaxed the grip on the gun, but still felt a bit disappointed that he didn't get to use it.  There were so many damn people on this planet.  The more to kill the better.  But soon…soon it wouldn't matter.  Soon, they'd all be dead, and he'd have succeeded.  He moved to the bottom of the ramp, and waited, staring up at the open circle of the Stargate.  _This is where it all ends.  Right here.  The one thing keeping this damned little planet safe is what's going to kill them all._  A smile flitted across his face at the irony of the situation.  Then he heard the shout, and turned, firing before even looking to see who it was.

            Jack stumbled back a step, his own gun falling to the floor.  Obviously, he hadn't expected that.  Of course he hadn't.  Foolish people, the Tau'ri.  

_You're calling them the Tau'ri!  Listen to yourself!_

He stayed on his feet, though, and stared at Daniel for half a second before speaking.  "Daniel, what are you doing?"  Blood seeped down through the fingers clutching at his right arm.  "What the hell is going on here?"  Daniel smiled slightly and glanced up at the Stargate.

"It'll be over soon…" he smiled.  "The end.  The beginning of freedom.  She'll be free."

Jack shot him a confused look, but before he got a chance to speak, the 'Gate began to move.  He looked at the Stargate, then at Daniel, and then bolted for the door.  Daniel ignored him.  Not worth worrying over.  He'd done what he was supposed to do.  Now she simply had to do her part.

*          *          *          *          *          *

            It was locked.  Why the fuck was it locked?  When you're evacuating a building under a bomb threat, why would you bother to stop and lock the door?  He shoved at it desperately as the first chevron locked.  Then he resorted to throwing his left shoulder against it.  Whatever was going to happen was going to happen soon, and there wasn't time to find another way.  The fate of the planet depended on whether or not whoever had built the door had done a shabby job at it.  
  


*          *          *          *          *          *

            She came when the first chevron locked.  He didn't notice her at first.  He was staring up at the moving circles and glowing triangles.  Then his eyes moved down, and she stood in front of him, on the metal ramp.  She wasn't dressed up in one of those Goa'uld queen outfits.  She wore the plain sand-colored clothing of Abydos.  Her eyes did not glow, and she, unlike his parents, didn't show any affect of being dead.  Hell, she didn't even have a wound.  She was gorgeous, perfect, his love, standing in front of him with a sweet smile on his face.

            The second chevron locked.

            "Why are you doing this, my love?"  That soft, innocently confused tone that came when he'd done things like try to cook, as it was the women's job on Abydos.  He'd always tried to cook.  Tried to please her so much.  How did he ever gain someone so perfect?  How was he worthy of someone so wonderful?  He'd always tried to please her, because he knew that she was something he'd never have again in a million years, and he needed to have her happy.

            "I—I've got to do it.  You're not real.  You're not a part of this world anymore.  There's nothing you can do to stop me."  

            _Sha're, I don't want to do it.  Don't let me do it…_

"But, my love, you do not love your friends?  You want to kill them?  You want to die, as well?  Why do you do this?"

            "I need to do this!  It's what I'm supposed to do!"

            _Why?  Why are you doing this?  Stop it!  You can stop it!_

            "Why, my Dan-iel, do you do this?"  She moved towards him, and though the stronger part of him wanted to move away, the voice in the back of his head finally overcame it, making him stand firm.  "You love life.  You have always loved life.  Why do you want to end it?  Why do you want to let this happen?"  She reached him, and her fingers brushed his face.  Warm, soft, real.

            The fifth chevron locked.

            "I—" his voice cracked and the gun clattered from his hand.  He shook his head.  "I can't do this.  I can't live anymore.  Why do I…" The sixth chevron locked as a tear fell down his face.  "You're gone.  Why do I have to live anymore?  What do I have?"

            "You do not think straight.  Your mind has been confused by words and technology of the Goa'uld.  You do not do this for me.  You would not kill everyone because of me.  You would not kill yourself because of me.  You will live on, Daniel, and I will always be with you.  You know this.  Do not listen to what was said to you.  Listen to me, my love."  She cupped his face.  "You do not want this to happen.  Stop it."  She kissed him softly and was gone as the seven chevron locked and the 'Gate opened.  He stared at the event horizon.  Waiting.

            It came through with a thump, and he moved forward quickly, kneeling beside it.  A naquada bomb.  Big enough to blow up Earth, if not the next few planets in line as well.  A countdown in Goa'uld.  Ten seconds.  He had to do this, had to figure it out before it went off.  There had to be a way.  He closed his eyes, running his hands over the wiring, the tubes.  One wrong move…

            Warm fingers touched his, and then touched one wire.  Then another.  A coil.  He followed the movements slowly, deliberately.  At two seconds, the countdown stopped short.  He looked up, and he caught Sha're's dark eyes.  She smiled again, and whispered, "I will always be with you."  Fingers brushed his face and slowly drifted away into nothing.

*          *          *          *          *

            Jack sat against the door, waiting.  Waiting.  And still waiting.  He looked at his watch.  "Well…this is anticlimactic," he muttered, climbing to his feet.  He headed downstairs again, into the 'Gateroom.  The wormhole was deactivated now, and on the ramp at the foot of the Stargate, Daniel sat with his knees pulled up, head bowed.  Beside him a piece of Goa'uld technology.  A bomb.  What else?  It didn't make noise, and, most importantly, didn't explode.  Jack moved silently up the ramp, glancing first at the bomb, then down at the top of Daniel's head.  Daniel let out a soft sob, and Jack knelt, laying a hand on his shoulder.  As bad as things were right then, at least they made sense again.  At least they fit.

_TBC.  Again.  Because there has to be the gratuitous smarmy scene.  Of course.  Would I deny you—or me—of that?_


	6. Chapter 6 Fin!

            Jack peered into the refrigerator.  He'd stocked it well, but just wasn't in the mood to actually make anything requiring effort.  He opened the freezer and surveyed its contents.  Finally, he stuck a frozen pizza in the oven, grabbed two beers from the fridge, and headed out the back door.

            After three weeks of a team of psychiatrist completely attacking Daniel like hounds on a wounded rabbit, Jack managed to pry him out of their grip.  It took a hell of a lot of arguing upon his part, considering what Daniel had almost done, but he finally got him free.  The point was that Daniel had stopped his plan at the last minute.  Lie detector tests were showing that he had no clue (no, at least) how to build a bomb, and couldn't even remember doing anything of the sort.  All he remembered, he told now.  They still insisted on picking his brain, however, and had it have helped, Jack was sure that they'd have literally opened his skull and poked around inside.

            Amidst Jack's protesting of the immense amount of psychiatric bullshit came also his—as well as the rest of SG-1's and a good amount of SGC-stationed people's—objections to Daniel's dismissal from the program.  By now, everyone know the story, and he was sure even more would have protested if they didn't fear going up against the general, who, despite being a generally (no pun intended) nice guy, wasn't on to mess with or object to the opinions of.  However, when it truly came down to it, it was more the president and pentagon considering Daniel as a risk than Hammond.  Over those three weeks, Jack was on the phone with so many government employees that he mentally vowed to smack the next person he saw wearing a campaign pin of any kind—even if it was just for a Nowwheresville mayoral candidate with no chance in hell of being elected.

            Things were going pretty damn good, now, all things considered.  Daniel still held his place on SG-1, and Hammond allowed—okay, more forced-by-command—a vacation for the team.  He'd taken Jack aside, however.  If there was one person in the world that knew Daniel Jackson better than anyone—Daniel included, some of the time—it was Jack O'Neill.  All of the psychologists felt Daniel was hiding something about the incident in the gateroom, but none could get it out of him.  He simply claimed that he had come to his senses at the last moment, but they knew he was lying.  If Jack hadn't been so damned persistent about getting Daniel out of those brain-probing maniacs' hands, they'd still be trying to get the information.  Now, Jack was left with getting to the heart of the matter.  If Jack couldn't do it, no one could.  And if no one could, it wasn't going to be good for Daniel.

            The sun was sinking below the treetops, and already, the sky was stained with its read light.  The reflection on the still and quiet lake looked like the water was blood, and the shimmer of it on the grass made the entire scene look like a battle had been fought on the water's edge and the blood had flowed down to form one big pool.  Jack walked down the dock.  Daniel flinched at the footsteps in surprise, and then relaxed.  He sat at the end, shoes beside him with his socks tucked in them.  His arm wrapped around the wooden post there for tying up boats, and he leaned his head against it, moving his feet slightly in the water below.  Jack set a bottle down next to him, but Daniel didn't move.  He was tired.  Mentally.  Physically.  Jack hadn't seen him for more than ten minutes a day in those three weeks—usually less.  Neither of them was to blame, and it wasn't putting the psychiatrists on Jack's 'beloved people' list.  Yet every time he saw Daniel, he looked more tired.  Now he looked like hell.

            They stayed silent for some time—Daniel still wiggling his toes in the cool water, Jack standing behind him, rolling the beer bottle between his hands, and staring at the silhouetted trees across the lake.  The crickets chirped and creaked softly, singing without care.

            "Are there snakes in the water?" Daniel asked, not sounding as if he'd take his feet out, even if there were.

            "Nah.  Just fish.  I ever tell you about—"

            "What?" Daniel asked, looking up, then.  His tone didn't indicate that he hadn't heard what Jack had said, but Jack still played the innocent, raising an eyebrow in faux-confusion.  "Why are we out here?" Daniel finally questioned.

            "You need to learn to love fishing.  The land.  The wilderness.  Be manly and rugged."

            "Really, Jack."  He pulled his feet out of the water, shaking them slightly, one at a time, sending droplets falling back down.  He stood and faced Jack, resting his hand on the post.  "You want to know something.  Don't play around it."

            Jack sighed.  "Am I that predictable?  Fine.  Why did you do it?  Diffuse the bomb?  You were brainwashed.  You said it yourself.  People don't just snap out of brainwashing."

            Daniel frowned and glanced at the water—not looking for an escape, but more collecting his thoughts.  "Do you believe in ghosts?" he asked, finally, turning back.

            "Daniel, you know as well as I do that when you're in our kind of work, you see some damn weird things and learn to believe five new things before breakfast everyday.  Of course I don't."  He caught the look of exasperation.  "I don't know—never thought much about it.  Why?"

            "I…Sha're came to me and convinced me not to listen to what the Goa'uld had told me to do."  A slightly shocked silence fell over him, having heard it for the first time out loud, and probably realizing how crazy it really sounded aloud. 

            "Well, you know, you saw your parents on that planet, right?"  This time, Hammond had convinced the psychiatrist to be a little more free with information with Jack—not that that meant a hell of a lot, but he learned a lot more than he ever would have without the general's help.  "Look, maybe Doc Fraiser's tests were wrong.  Could be that you were still hallucinating and—"

            "She wasn't a hallucination," Daniel snapped at him with sudden vehemence and anger.  "She was there.  Really there," he insisted, thrusting his fist against the post in frustration.  "I saw her.  I felt her.  It…" he shook his head and spoke softly now, looking down at the dark puddles of water forming under his bare feet, "it wasn't like my parents.  She wasn't cold and dead.  She didn't even have a wound from the staff weapon.  She was there, and she convinced me to change my mind.  If you don't—"

            "I believe you, Daniel."

            "You—you what?"  Daniel looked up in surprise, blinking furiously to keep away the tears that had threatened to come while he spoke.

            "I believe you.  Who am I to tell you what you saw?"  He paused, but Daniel was now looking over his shoulder, eyes wide.  "Daniel?"

            "Um…Jack…"  He gestured towards the cabin.

            Jack turned and stared for a half-second before reacting.  Soft grey smoke curled lazily from the half-open kitchen window—not enough to be from a fire.  But enough to remind him of—"The pizza.  Crap."  Jack bolted for the back door, and despite their dinner charring in the oven, he had to smile.  For the first time in over a month, he heard Daniel truly and honestly laughing.

*          *            *            *            *            *

Aww…make you feel warm and fuzzy?  Good.  ALL SHALL LOVE ME AND DESPAIR!!!  *negative film-exposure freak out*  

_I should mention, now that you've read it all, where I got my inspiration for this entire story.  If you've ever read "IT" by Stephen King (or watched the movie, and though I love the movie dearly, I have to tell you, the line is much better in the context of the book), there's a line that goes, "**He thrusts his fists against the post, and still insists he sees the ghosts.**"  So, there you go.  An entire story spawned from a little line meant to help a stuttering boy learn to speak better.  What can I say?  My bunnies come from all kinds of places._

_Read, review, and love me.  Or I'll throw more "Lord of the Rings" references at you—trust me, I can go on forever—I've both seen the movies *and* read the books.  Fear the geekdom._


End file.
